


Alexithymia

by PhonyHawk



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Character Death, Gen, I'm pretty sure it was 3am when I wrote most of this, MC and Michael had a thing but it's mentioned in one line, Most of the characters are there for one scene, Original Character(s), Probably not though, William killed the MC, Yikes, and not one of those pages is good, bad descriptions of murder, having a set tense is lame, in this house we switch between past and present tense randomly, mc's totally edgy xd, not exactly accurate or graphic though, other OCs are mentioned by description but not name, they're also dead so, this is 9 pages long on google docs, this is pretty old - I like to think I'm better at writing now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhonyHawk/pseuds/PhonyHawk
Summary: Alexithymia: The subclinical inability to identify and describe emotions experienced by one's self or others.AKA, a story based on Alex’s feelings across their existence as A73X.(A73X is a placeholder name as the animatronic doesn't have an actual name, both irl and in canon.)
Relationships: Michael Afton & OC





	Alexithymia

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags say...  
> This isn't exactly my best work.  
> Not the worst either, but... eesh.

Alex wasn’t sure where they were. It was dark, and they were still disoriented by the entirely pitch-black journey to... wherever they were. They lay in a daze, limbs numb for some reason. Had they passed out? Confused, they tried to squint in an attempt to see better, only for their eyelids to move in an almost stilted manner. What? They tried to push themselves into a sitting position, and ended up falling against the wall. “Why can’t I remember anything..?” They paused at the sound of their voice, and as it occurred to them that wasn’t what they sounded like, they also realized they weren’t breathing.

Panicking, they managed to lurch up onto their knees, looking down with difficulty to see, to their horror, a smooth white plastic covering their arms. “No…!” The stranger’s voice rang out again, as they heaved themselves up and staggered to the wall, freezing up when they saw what they looked like. They didn’t even look human anymore. They had a pure white body, constructed of separated pieces of plastic. Their torso had a speaker embedded into it, with a star decorated purple stripe above it. Their face was perfectly smooth, two purple circles replacing their cheeks. They raised a segmented hand to where their mouth would be, letting out a mangled sob when they felt nothing. Their eyes were glowing yellow, and were sunken into perfectly oval sockets.

“How..?” Their legs gave out, sending them crashing into the wall. Not wanting to look at themself again, they sank to the ground, trying to remember what had happened. “What…” they mumbled, head resting against their knees. “Remember, Cawthon… What happened to you?” Scouring their mind, it all came crashing back to them. A child screaming. A bloodied corpse. They can almost feel him tearing through their skin, stabbing relentlessly through their stomach with that goddamned knife. They shuddered. It hurt so much… “But… what happened to me..?”

A soft whispering fills their non-existent ears, reminding them of a voice they can’t quite put a face to. “Alex…” “H-huh?” The animatronic’s voice stutters, seemingly matching their mood. “W-who are- who are you?” “You know me, try to remember.” “I-I-“ “Remember what happened in 1983.” They try to remember- they know it was bad, but… what was it? “Are…” The voice was vaguely feminine, so they assumed… “Are you Charlie?” “Yes… I would show myself, but it’s difficult enough to speak, so far from my body.” “Oh, god, I was right about the Puppet.” They go to inhale, only to remember that they can’t breathe anymore, and choose instead to sob into their… no, this thing’s hands. “Was I right about Chica and Foxy, too?” “Unfortunately, yes… The deaths you walked in on was one of three more. They’re possessing the remaining three now.” “Three..? Oh, Golden Freddy. But I thought…” “Michael’s brother-’

They cut her off with an especially loud cry, arms flung over their head in an attempt to curl into a ball. Charlie continued, unfazed. ‘Michael’s brother also has control over Golden Freddy.” “Michael… Do you know how he’s..?” “He’s devastated… Nobody knows where you went. Maisie’s parents have funded half of the investigation. I think your dad knows what happened, but he doesn’t want to think about it.” “Did I come back of my own volition? Or did you..?” “I’m afraid I had to bring you back – we need someone who’s at least close to being an adult.” “Why.” “Huh?”

Alex stood up, trying their best to glare at the space where the voice was coming from. “Why do you think I would help you?” “Well-” “You fucking brought me back from the dead. You-!” They look up and see a window that was apparently in the room. A rather scared looking technician was staring at them. The voice stopped, and it seemed Charlie was gone. They sighed, walking back over to the far wall and slumping down against it, vaguely aware of the power in the animatronic shutting off.

*

They had been there three weeks until there were people. He had dragged them up to a bright and colourful stage, with the one everyone called Circus Baby. She didn’t speak much, unless there was a group of children in the room. They couldn’t say much about where they were, since their circuits locked up if they got close to the door, but the room they were in seemed nice. There was a piano, and party tables. Sometimes kids asked them to play songs on the piano. Mostly, though, their attention was on Baby. They didn’t mind, really, but it was nice to get some attention from people, even if only for a minute. Occasionally, they wondered what would happen to the ones that ran away from their parents. It probably wouldn’t be nice. They assumed it was the open day of the restaurant, but they weren’t sure.

Alex had been standing still for maybe forty minutes when someone who wasn’t a child walked in. They froze when they saw who it was; brown hair, a vaguely annoyed expression, and piercing blue eyes. All of a sudden, an overwhelming sense of hope filled them, as they struggled to contain the urge to cry. “Michael?” He looked up, eyes wide. When he saw them, he rolled his eyes and went back to staring at the floor. “How the hell do you know my name?” They tried desperately to respond, to tell him what happened to them, but their voice wouldn’t work. The animatronic spoke, telling him some pre-programmed excuse, but they didn’t hear it through the buzzing that had filled their thoughts, silently sobbing. “Oh. Whatever, I’m leaving.” He turned around, walking out of the room and taking that sense of hope with him. “NO! No, please, come back!” They cried out, voice still silenced by the machine they were trapped in. “Michael, Michael, please! It’s me, Michael! **Michael!"**

It was too late. He had gone. Control snapped back to Alex, who immediately started sobbing with the voice that wasn’t theirs. Baby turned to look at them for a minute, but eventually faced the front when another group of children walked in. Alex forced themselves to stand upright, carrying on with the routine they’d put themselves in before Michael walked in. They weren’t sure how much time had passed before somebody else they recognised walked into the room among a handful of other children. They managed to refrain from calling out to her too, silently watching as she mingled with the other people in the room. She clearly wanted to talk to Baby, but didn’t want to do it until the room was empty. Something was off. …What was her name again? Oh, god, they couldn’t remember her name. They zoned out, trying to remember who this girl was. They knew her, they knew that much. Michael’s sister? What was her name? Was it-? “Hey!” They were snapped out of their train of thought by the girl getting a little bit closer to them and Baby. “Who’re you?” She pointed at them. So she recognises Baby..? They felt the control being wrenched away from them – the code coming back in to prevent anyone finding out who they were. “Well, I don’t really have a name, so everyone can call me what they want!”

She made a ‘huh’ noise, before glancing behind her to see all the other children had left the room. They were aware of Baby saying something, ejecting an… ice cream? What? Their attention snapped to the girl, who was getting closer to her, going to take the ice cream. She said something, but Alex could only think about how wrong this felt. They knew what would happen the second it occurred, and went to cry out. They were cut off by the whirring noise of the claw emerging from Baby’s stomach. The girl… Elizabeth. Her name was Elizabeth. She screamed, only to be stopped by the plates on her stomach slamming shut, the noise of bones snapping all too familiar to them. “Not… Not another one, please…” They couldn’t speak, unsure if it was because of their code or because they were too shocked to.

It wasn’t long before he walked in, seeming worried. “Oi, you.” He said, arms crossed. “Have you seen a ginger girl wearing a pink top in here?” Wrenching the control away from the machine, Alex spoke. “She’s dead, Mr Afton.” “…Excuse me?” They laughed at his response, giggling maniacally. “She’s dead! That child-killing animatronic of yours got her!” They stopped, laughing harder. “She’s currently a mess of broken bones in that thing!” They pointed at Baby. “Tell the truth. I don’t have time to fuck around.” “What, you don’t believe me? Get her to open her stomach, Mr Afton. You’ll see.”

He approached Baby, apparently hesitant to what he would see. Their laughter had subsided back to giggles, eyes fixed on his face. They wanted to see his expression when he found out they were telling the truth. They were back in the storage room within the hour, vaguely aware of sirens ringing through the upstairs. They wondered what excuse he would give this time. There was a piano in with them now, which was nice. They weren’t the slightest bit interested in it, anything else, however – their only thoughts were of what was going to happen to Michael. “Will he..?” They shook their head, sighing and letting themselves power off, only able to speculate how long they’d be down here.

*

The tape player turned on with a click, and Alex sighed, before starting to speak. “I’ve been down here 289 days. I’d be 18 today, if I was still alive. Happy birthday, me.” They paused while a cart carrying one of the other animatronics clattered past. “It’s a wonder that people actually hire these things. I wonder how many other deaths they’ve caused.” They fell silent, staring at the floor. “I wonder if Michael and the others’ are thinking about me. I’ve been dead quite a while now… Has the investigation been called off yet? I guess I’ll never know.” They trailed off as a door slams shut in the distance, and another boring person walks past. When they were gone, they continued talking. “I’m getting really good with the piano. It scares me how used to this body I’m getting. And, anyway, if I’m honest, I have no idea how much longer I can use this recorder for. It’ll have to have a limit on it… Whatever.” They turned off the recorder, head resting against the wall. It was a boring existence.

*

They’d been dead three years. Trapped in the same room, with no other contact, for three years. They knew they had long since gone insane, and it scared them. That was all they felt, really. Fear.

*

Ten years. They couldn’t remember any names from before they died, except for his, Charlie’s, and Michael’s. Just a blurry mess of faces. A blonde girl, a guy with curly black hair and an angry expression, Charlie’s brother, and a girl with black hair, with red streaks in. It made them want to die all over again. On top of that, they couldn’t remember anything about who the people who they were friends with. They knew they loved them all, but… Nothing past that.

Even their memories of Michael were slipping. They remember a park with a large oak tree, time spent fucking around with school teachers, talking at the back of Freddy’s, but nothing specific. They get a feeling of joy and hope whenever they think about Michael. He’ll save them. He’s always saved them, no matter what the consequences were. Alex doesn’t know much anymore, not even what they used to look like. But they know that they care about Michael.

*

They couldn’t remember their name.

*

They weren’t sure how long it’d been. They’d lost count of how many days had passed years ago. Was it years ago? It could’ve been last week, for all they knew. There wasn’t time anymore, for them. It’d all faded into the same cycle: activate in the mornings, see if anyone human (and alive) had come into the facility, then play the piano for hours on end, followed by deactivating. It was a very boring life, they had to admit.

The others didn’t help. Even though they were confined to a single room, they could still hear them. There was Funtime Freddy, who was always yelling and throwing that stupid puppet around, Funtime Foxy, with their superiority complex, and Ballora, who was admittedly better than the other two, but had even less sense of time than you did, only seeming to play music at times when they were trying to ‘sleep’. They don’t even want to get started on the Minireenas. And, of course, there was Circus Baby. Fucking Circus Baby. She was the ‘leader’ of the animatronics there, and seemed to act like she was above everyone else there purely because of that. Of course, they knew who she really was: the dead daughter of a murderer, but they knew if they said that she’d probably tear them apart. So, they had to let her talk about how much better she was than the rest of them over the speakers. It was difficult to ignore her, and even more difficult to talk back, since the facility’s security cameras barely ever picked up their stupid animatronic voice.

Overall, their life... death? Their existence was miserable. Trapped in a body that was still foreign to them, even after however long it had been, in a place where nobody else cared about them. Oh, and they were dead. And had been since 1985. That was an important factor.

*

With a jerk, they came online, their eyes blinking open. The darkened storage room was only lit by the soft glow their eyes emitted, the single light bulb long dead. They stood up, stiffly hobbling towards the window as their movement sensors whirred to life. They were vaguely aware of HandUnit chatting away to someone, and inched closer to the glass in an attempt to see through. There was probably a new technician, since the old one had bolted from the establishment, screaming, a few nights prior.

As they listened, they picked up the usual drivel HandUnit used to debrief the technicians on what they needed to do to ensure they didn’t break. “And remember to tune their piano – their coding won’t understand what’s going on if the piano isn’t playing the pieces the way it’s supposed to.” Oh, yes, they were more than aware of that. It had taken them several years to memorise the pieces they knew – and they couldn’t learn any new ones without having the animatronic freak out. “Huh.” They looked up at the sound of the voice they’d been waiting for for the past 15 years. “That was the one that knew my name.” “Michael!” They cried out, slamming themself up against the glass to try and see him… There. In all of his sleep-deprived glory, Michael Afton.

“Dad must’ve actually programmed this thing to remember my name. Weird, wonder if he did it with the others.” They scoured their bitty memories, trying to remember, but coming out with nothing. They shook their head. “Just me..? Odd. Oh, wait, it probably can’t hear me.” He opened the door, that had been locked shut for the entirety of their time underground, and walked in slowly, one hand on the taser attached to his belt. They stayed still, turning their head to look at him, not wanting to take their eyes off him.

They watched silently as Michael tuned the piano, glancing over his shoulder every so often to ensure they hadn’t gotten any closer to him. “I won’t hurt yo- you.” Damn animatronic stuttering. He jumped, whirling around to stare at them. “How..?” They didn’t respond, choosing to raise their hands and back away instead. Eyes narrowed, Michael turned back around and continued to tinker. Eventually he closed the lid, and turned back around. HandUnit spoke again – “Great job! Tomorrow, you’ll need to perform routine maintenance on the suit.” “Oh, fantastic. Probably gonna get mauled to de- Did that thing just say suit?” They stared at him, not offering a response. “…I don’t know why I asked.” He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. They watched him go, trying not to call out.

*

Michael came back the next day. He mostly messed with the animatronic, cleaning it and sorting out the wires emerging from the broken parts of the plastic. He started humming quietly after he realised that they probably weren’t going to attack him. Letting themselves be lulled into a relaxed state by the sound of his voice, startling when he stepped back. “Okay, I think that’s good enough.” He tilted his head when they continued to stare at him. “What?” “Are you leaving?” Their voice was still very stuttery. “Uh, yes. I have other tasks to do. This is my job, y’know.” “Oh…” They lowered their head slightly.

Michael sighed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m talking to a machine, but I’ll be back tomorrow, if that helps any.” They brightened, nodding at him. “Okay, then.” He chuckled, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll see you tomorrow, nameless animatronic.” He waved, walking out of the door and shutting it again. If they could smile, and remembered how to, they would.

*

Michael came back the next day, as promised. Across the time, they tried their best to clue him in that they used to be human, but to no avail. At least he seemed fond of them. He was happy to sit and listen to them play various tunes on the piano when he was on break, humming along quietly. Sometimes, he asked them questions. It was never anything important, mostly to do with the songs they played, but they loved it nonetheless. Mostly, they just sat in silence, Them enjoying Michael’s presence, and Michael happy to have a few minutes of not being attacked.

*

Michael was missing. They weren’t sure where he was, but he didn’t leave the facility at the end of his last shift. They were fairly certain they heard a loud bang, but weren’t sure of what it was. It was probably Michael, and that scared them. They spent most of the night pacing around in their room, worrying. At one point, two other people made their way into the facility, and they heard the scooper go off a few times. Wonder which one was going now? After a few hours of waiting, Michael came back, looking incredibly disheveled and annoyed. Relieved, they pressed their face up to the glass and waved at him. “Oh, hello.” He waved back, sighing as he rubbed his forehead. “R-rough night?” He nodded, not saying anything. He stayed outside the window for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. Eventually, he stood up again and walked off, waving at them again as he left. They watched him go, before going to deactivate for the day.

*

Michael showed up again the next night, and immediately came into their room, seemingly worried about something. “W-what is- is it?” They questioned, head tilted to the side. “Uh… I think this is gonna be my last night. I’ve got one last thing to do, then…” he trailed off, staring at them nervously. “Oh.” They lowered their head to their knees, thinking. “There’ll be another guard replacing me, but. Yeah.” They glanced at him, squinting slightly. “Don’t trust her.” “What?” “She doesn’t want you to succeed. And, whatever you do… Stay out of the scooping room.”

Michael stood, apparently unnerved, and walked towards the exit, eyes fixed on them. “W-wait!” They called out, trying to reach the door in a half-assed attempt to catch him. “Don’t leave me here-!” It slammed shut, Michael staring through the glass for a second before walking away. “No, Michael, please! I’m-!” They sobbed quietly as they leant against the door. Why did they have to forget their own name? They stayed huddled in the corner of the room for the rest of the night, not wanting to move. There was this horrible feeling filling them – something bad was going to happen, and they knew it.

By the time the night ended, Michael still hadn’t come back. When he finally did show up, something was off. They stood up to stare at him: he was limping, dragging one of his legs, had a vacant look in his eyes, and was covered in blood. He paused when he saw them, turning to face them. It hit them all at once when his gaze was on them, partially because he started talking in a voice that wasn’t his. “Hello.” They didn’t respond, shaking slightly at their realisation: Michael Afton was dead, and whatever *this* was, wasn’t him. “We’re getting out of here.” They didn’t hear them talking, white noise filling their ‘ears’. “Are you listening?”

They raised their head, blinking at *it* a couple of times. “Yes.” It nodded, mirroring their motion. “Okay. We’ll send someone to get you out as soon as we can.” They scoffed, moving away from the glass. “I don’t want help from the thing that killed Michael.” It laughed, smiling. “Oh, he’ll be back. But sure, we’ll leave you here.” It walked away, leaving them to the silence.

*

They were there for 10 more years before they got out. A technician slipped up and left the door open. It was easy enough to kill him. It made them feel bad, though. They had been gradually hacking apart the animatronic across the years; just leaving the mask and other various bits and pieces. The sight of their limbs, weirdly smooth and not-rotten (but grey) after the decades, made them want to throw up. Whether or not they could was another story. At the same time, though… It was oddly invigorating. As much as they’d suffered, they were still human under the animatronic.

Escaping was easy, probably too easy. They stole the technician’s ID card, apologised to his corpse then left the facility, ensuring it was nighttime before they left. Seeing a literal grey person with incredibly tattered (not to mention bloodstained) clothes probably wouldn’t do well on someone’s mental health. Or their criminal record. They hobbled down the road, clinging to fences and railings to ensure they didn’t fall over – they hadn’t actually walked more than two metres for the past… twenty-five years? They weren’t sure, but a billboard had the date 04.10.10 on it, so they guessed it was 2010. Damn.

They paused at the end of the main street, cursing at the sound of a door opening. “Hello?” They recognised that voice. Not even turning around, they forced themselves to bolt down the road, ducking into an alleyway. Shit. They weren’t ready to face him, not now, and certainly not looking like this. They glanced over a fence, and heaved themselves into the person’s garden with a sigh. It took them far longer than they were comfortable with to steal some decent looking clothes that were _probably_ their size. After hopping back over the fence and changing, they slipped into the night.

*

Y’know, they didn’t expect it to all end like this. Flames engulfed the small room they were in, causing them to somehow choke, even though they didn’t need to breathe. They couldn’t see through the smoke, and chose to listen to Henry’s (they’re pretty sure that was his name,) monologue, quietly sitting as they burned alive. In all honesty, they were content. They had left behind a decent system to take out any remnants of Freddy’s, as well as *him*. The others would do well. They knew it. They didn’t have many regrets. They may have felt a little guilty for killing that technician, and also stealing that one person’s clothes, but that was mainly it. Their biggest cause of discomfort was that they never actually saw Michael again. They knew he was close, but as Henry put it: “Yet somehow out of reach.” They hated that. Although… “I suppose I’ll see you in whatever comes next, assuming there is a next,” they murmured aloud, eyes closed. “But either way, I loved you. Perhaps I still do.” They slipped off the chair onto the floor, curling up into a ball, when it hit them.

“Alex. My name is Alex.”

**Author's Note:**

> well then  
> that sure was interesting  
> I might end up writing more with this OC (let's be honest, more of a glorified self insert) at some point  
> let's just hope I do it better next time
> 
> also haha very funny name el-oh-el


End file.
